My Heartless Valentine
by Zellarius Burvenia
Summary: Nobodies don't have hearts, and can't feel emotions. So how do they celebrate Valentine's Day? Primarily Zemyx, with elements of AkuRoku and Marxene. First attempt at romance. Finally complete!
1. Chapter 1

"Demyx?"

"Mmmmph."

"Demyx, I'm hungry."

"Hmmm? No, Zexion, why are you stopping? This cloak is so hot and bulky…"

"_Demyx!_ Get off me and wake up!"

"Aaigh!"

Such was the early morning of February 14th, which found Organization XIII's Numbers VI and IX hopelessly entangled in the former's bedsheets again. As usual, Zexion rose with the tolling of the Great White Bell, before his subordinate did. Perhaps "rose" wasn't the right word, actually, because Demyx's virtually comatose position atop the Cloaked Schemer prevented it. "Awoke" fit the situation better, and Zexion was well aware of his current limitation upon doing so.

"_Not that I didn't appreciate the process which led to it, but I've got things to do today," _thought Zexion. This consideration immediately preceded the above exchange, in which Zexion attempted words, force, and finally teleportation to escape his sleepily amorous companion. So it was that Demyx suddenly screamed and fell through the empty air where Zexion had been, which served as a rude awakening for the former and a catalyst for the amusement of the latter.

Demyx moved with uncharacteristic agility for 7:30 in the morning. When he failed to find Zexion by digging through the sheets, he scrambled left and right, searching frantically under the bed. "Zexion? Where are you? You were just here! _Zexion!_"

Demyx's mounting panic elicited a smile from the normally stoic Zexion, who by the time the Melodious Nocturne saw him had retrieved his boxers and was slipping into his jeans. "Don't get your sitar in a twist, Demyx. I'm right here." Demyx, hearing Zexion's voice, turned around and grinned, relieved. "Zexy! I knew you weren't the type to love and leave!"

Zexion picked his cloak up off the ground, rolling his eyes and sliding into the sleeves. "We're _Nobodies_, Demyx. We're not the type to love at all. And don't call me Zexy."

"Hmph." Demyx pouted, tossing the sheets aside and standing to dress. "What do you call last night, then?"

Zexion raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in a condescending facsimile of a smile. "Fun. A diversion. A temporary relief from the ennui of nonexistence." He zipped up his cloak for emphasis. "But I wouldn't, by any stretch of the imagination, call it love."

During Zexion's response, Demyx engaged in dressing for the coming day, albeit far more slowly than his fellow Nobody. "Well, that's kind of mercenary of you, isn't it?" he asked with feigned hurt, hopping to avoid falling as he pulled his pants on one leg at a time. "Organization XIII: the club for heartless scientists and sex toys?"

Zexion shrugged, stepping carefully through his room (which, due to last night's activities, was far less orderly) and picking up Demyx's cloak off the floor. "What can I say? It's the truth. We can't feel any emotion at all, remember?" He handed Demyx the cloak, and met his inquisitive eyes. "Though I will say that you have a special place in the pitiful emptiness where my heart once was. What would I do with my evenings otherwise?"

Demyx held Zexion's gaze, and finally closed his eyes, shaking his head, chuckling ruefully and starting to put on his cloak. "You'd stay up reading your boring old textbooks, wishing you were exercising your body instead of your mind. We haven't lost That with our hearts, you realize."

"Physically, we haven't." Zexion cast a glance at the ceiling, smiled mischievously, and tackled an unsuspecting Demyx to the bed. He held the surprised Nobody's wrists over his head, straddling him and eyeing him hungrily. "Perhaps that's what keeps us all going, hmm?"

Demyx was too shocked to form a coherent response, open-mouthed and trying to keep his gaze from wandering across his superior's now-clothed body. After what seemed an eternity waiting for Zexion to close the distance between them, the moment ended. Zexion rolled off of the bed, opening a portal of darkness and turning to Demyx with his usual dispassionate expression. "Try not to look too flushed. We're late for breakfast already."

* * *

So they were, but not by much. Vexen was absent from the long table in the Hollow Cafeteria, doubtless attempting to sleep off a long night of experiments. Larxene was missing as well, for reasons Zexion didn't care to think about. He emerged from the portal of darkness, throwing out an indifferent "Good morning" and taking his seat. A Dusk slithered up to him at once, presenting him with a plate of waffles. "Thank you. No syrup, please, and fetch me some ice water as long as you're here," Zexion ordered, and sent the Dusk back to the kitchens.

Demyx, at least, had the wherewithal to arrive through his own portal this time; more than once in the past, they had shared their method of transportation, feeding the risqué speculation of those members of the Organization who partook in such a thing. Today's greater caution made no difference, unfortunately, as Demyx had put his cloak on inside out. Zexion shot him a glare, Axel and Xigbar shot both of them evil grins, and Demyx, turning redder than Axel's hair, disappeared, returning in five seconds – flustered indeed, but dressed properly.

Axel, of course, pounced on this opportunity like a tiger on a helpless victim. "You two enjoyed your evening, I take it?" he asked with mock innocence. "Did you help Demyx tune his sitar, Zexion?" Roxas, three seats down, nearly spit out a mouthful of his breakfast.

Demyx, embarrassed, dove into his waffles to hide his still-burning cheeks. He was handling the situation with far less aplomb than Zexion, who simply responded, "I'm sure you can relate. You've spent many a night polishing Number XIII's Keyblade, haven't you?" Now it was Roxas's turn to blush, while Axel simply grinned dangerously. "Where fire goes, light follows. But you knew that already." Axel kept his composure, even while dodging a thrown knife from Roxas's side of the table.

Larxene appeared at this point, just in time to see the fallout from the verbal and sexual sparring – Zexion and Axel shooting laser-intensity looks at each other from their adjacent positions, while Demyx and Roxas attacked their waffles with focus and drive normally reserved for escaping an ambush. Number XII smiled as she draped her arms around a self-satisfied-looking Marluxia, already enjoying this. "Oh, have I missed something PG-13? Amateurs. Let me tell you all about-"

Vexen portaled into the room, cutting her off. "Don't even start, young lady. I've gotten far too little sleep to listen and I have far too much work to care. Do you even have any idea how hard it is to get anything done with people like you making so much-"

"_Enough._"

All members of the Organization turned to hear the speaker: Xemnas, who had put down his silverware and had fixed seemingly everyone at once with a no-nonsense glare. "It was not my intent to have breakfast with your private escapades competing for attention in the background. Any further conversation regarding what you all do behind closed doors in the spare time I have so generously granted to you shall incur a penalty of three days polishing every reflective surface in the Immaculate Washroom – which, may I remind you, is by its very nature reflective in its entirety." Xemnas stood, his waffles forgotten and his gaze sweeping the table. "Which reminds me of the customary announcement for this date." This last proclamation garnered varied reactions: exasperated rolls of the eyes from those who knew the forthcoming speech by heart, impassivity from those who couldn't care less about it, and snickers and grins from those who fully intended to disregard it. Zexion, oddly, fell into none of these groups, but Xemnas took no notice.

"As must always occur, due to the incessant passage of time, February 14th has once again presented itself as an uninvited guest." Xemnas paused, letting his words sink in as he did every year. "Most of you, of course, will remember this date from your past lives as Valentine's Day. As our current nonexistence should help make abundantly clear, this is a holiday entirely manufactured to celebrate the artificial and pointless emotion known as love. This love is nothing more than a concept invented by those enslaved by their hearts, in order to add imaginary meaning to their soulless physical pursuits." At these last two words, Axel elbowed Zexion, who very pointedly ignored him. "It is my most fervent wish that none of you are affected by this useless occasion. Today shall be business as usual. If I discover that this is not the case, those involved shall find themselves fighting Heartless nonstop from dawn to dusk on the fifteenth – _without_ weapons.

"That will be all. You may return to your breakfast. Your missions are on the bulletin board in the hall. I expect your full reports at the usual time." With this pronouncement, Xemnas sat and set about finishing his waffles. Either he didn't notice or didn't care about everyone else's reactions, because there was nothing at the table to indicate that his speech had fallen on anything but deaf ears. Axel alternated between savoring every bite of his waffles to kill time and shooting hungry glances at Roxas, slowly licking his lips and smiling contentedly in both cases (much to the conflicting assent and restraint of Number XIII). Larxene pinched Marluxia's cheek playfully (though hard enough to leave a bruise, which quickly healed anyway) and slinked over to her seat to enjoy the day's first meal.

It was Demyx who was most confused by the morning's proceedings – not because he hadn't understood the speech (it had, after all, applied to him), but because of Zexion's reaction. Throughout Xemnas's traditional lecture, Zexion had been oddly distant – not distressed or worried, but simply looking like he had been caught totally off guard. Demyx wondered why, and with a few gestures endeavored to find out.

Zexion, meanwhile, was staring at his waffles, consumed with surprise and wondering how in the worlds he had forgotten the date. _"I was going to do something special…what was it?" _His confused thoughts were interrupted by motion in front of him and to his right. To his initial shock and immediate realization that nothing was wrong, the water slithered out of his glass and onto the table, forming words on the surface:

_What's wrong? You look almost beside yourself._

Zexion stared for a moment, flicking his eyes to Demyx, seated across from him with a curious and concerned expression. "Oh, nothing," he mouthed, shaking his head and motioning toward his glass. Demyx got the message, returning Zexion's water while continuing to watch him questioningly. Zexion picked up his fork, cutting another piece of waffle and eating it, but decided he was no longer hungry. He set his fork down, standing and snapping his fingers. A Dusk immediately materialized to clear his place. "Superior, with your permission, I wish to begin my mission right away," Zexion requested. Xemnas nodded, obviously uninterested in hearing an explanation, and Zexion turned on his heel and started for the large double doors.

"Beside myself…there's an idea…"

* * *

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen: my first attempt at a romance fic. It should be pretty obvious from the beginning who the pairings are, so everyone except the militant XII/XI and XII/VIII shippers should be satisfied. Little bit of suspense there at the end, but nothing an imaginative Kingdom Hearts fan can't figure out after some consideration. I'll see if I can actually finish this week (I'm planning on only one more chapter) and make up for my lateness in uploading "Time."

Merry Christmas, by the way, Axel-Fangirl - this is your present! Thank you and everyone else for reading and reviewing, and might I simply suggest continuing to do so as we celebrate the holiday season? Christmas is about giving, after all, and reviews are worth as much to me as anything I might find under the tree on Friday.

Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, happy Kwanzaa (assuming you're one of the six people who celebrate Kwanzaa), and what have you. You're beautiful people, every one of you.

Love and thanks to all the readers,

Zellarius Burvenia


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast ended shortly after Xemnas's dismissal and Zexion's departure. Satisfyingly fed and watered, Organization XIII dispersed for the day's activities. Xigbar was the first to leave, with a "Yo, Luxord! Race you to Pride Rock!" No sooner had he said this than he teleported outside, and shortly thereafter offworld. Luxord glanced momentarily at Number II's now-empty seat, and calmly returned to his waffles. "Let this be a lesson to the rest of you," he commented dryly, "to read one's schedule more carefully. The Pride Lands are next week. I hope he enjoys himself today." Axel snickered, standing and tossing his empty plate discus-style at an unsuspecting Dusk. "And how did you spend your evening, Luxord? I would think messing with schedules would be beneath you."

Luxord stood, cracking a devious smile, and summoned a portal. "Which is why you have yet to beat me at poker. You're far too trusting. Good morning." Chuckling to himself, he backed into the corridor of darkness and vanished. Axel was left hanging, a forefinger raised in defiance and halfway between a retort. Finally, he relented, curling his raised hand into a fist and dropping it to his side. "Wait until he finds out what I did to his closet. Come, Roxas – Twilight Town needs us!" Thus it was that Axel left through a portal of his own, leaving Roxas to hastily polish off his waffles and follow.

The rest of the Organization left in their own manners – Xaldin, Vexen, and Lexaeus without a word and fully intending to match Zexion's apparent eagerness; Saïx staying behind for a word with Xemnas before departing for his own mission; and Larxene and Marluxia leaving through a single portal, whispering conspiratorially. Only Demyx lingered, gazing wonderingly at Zexion's empty seat and trying to decipher Number VI's sudden shift in demeanor. _"Surely he couldn't have forgotten Valentine's Day. Why would he go off so fast, if he didn't want to have more time to celebrate?"_

"Demyx."

Xemnas's silky, emotionless bass shattered Demyx's personal bubble of speculation, and Demyx glanced up to find, with a sudden twinge of panic, that he was now alone in the room with the Superior. "Is there something you wish to discuss, Number IX?" This was not a question, but a threat, as Xemnas's amber eyes, devoid of compassion or interest in an answer, searched Demyx for any sign of dissent. Demyx visibly paled, and responded, quivering in his seat: "N-no, sir, Mr. Superior, sir! I'm on my way to…to my mission." Demyx was struck with a sense of unspeakable dread as he realized he had no idea where he was supposed to be.

Xemnas arched a perfectly sculpted silver eyebrow, boring twin holes in Demyx's skull with his gaze. "And where might that mission be?" he inquired, already having predicted the response. Demyx shrank down in his chair, and jumped when a silver claw swept in front of him; but it was merely a Dusk collecting his plate, glass and silverware. "My mission…it's in the place I was…assigned to…for today…" Demyx answered, faltering more and more with each passing second.

As one might expect, Xemnas was unimpressed. "You would do well, Number IX, to pay closer attention to your schedule. I'm sure the Dusks have far more…physically demanding tasks to attend to if posting your schedule is not a priority. It never hurts to train more footsoldiers – especially with your Dancer Nobodies as moving targets." Demyx shuddered, and found the courage to meet Xemnas's gaze. "I'll just…be off, then, if that's all right? Bulletin board and all? Can't sit here forever…" _"And please don't hurt my poor Dancers…"_ he added silently.

Xemnas eyed his subordinate a moment longer, and finally nodded. "Indeed. I expect we both have better things to do." So saying, he stood and vanished. He didn't summon a portal – he just vanished. _"One of the creepier things about him," _Demyx mused, rising cautiously from his seat and glancing about, as if Xemnas was still watching him.

"_Who knows?" _Demyx thought, half-running to the doors. _"He might be."_

_

* * *

_

**_The Sewers of Hollow Bastion  
_**_**11:37 AM, Valentine's Day**_

A lone Shadow Heartless peeked around a dank corner, its yellow eyes searching the corridor beyond for any sign of danger. Sensing none, it scampered across the damp stones of the sewers, its black form almost blending in with the darkness of its surroundings.

_Enemy. Run. Hide._

As anyone studying the mysteries of the heart at the Royal University of Hollow Bastion would know, Heartless were utterly mindless. Driven by instinct and boundless hunger for hearts of all kinds, they were an animalistic force, capable only of organization by intelligent entities and totally devoid of higher reasoning skills.

This particular Shadow was no exception – a completely run-of-the-mill, insignificant creature in a class with billions of others just like it. But it possessed one thing that made it equal to every sentient and semisentient being across the worlds: the inherent ability to feel fear. This fear was justified with extreme prejudice this day, as this Shadow was currently the last of its kind in the area.

Run. Hide. Enemy. Alone.

Though Shadows lacked communication skills, this was an accurate approximation of its disjointed mockeries of thoughts. It skittered down endless hallways, occasionally crossing small bridges or simply jumping across the flow of wastewater, fleeing this way and that to reach some unspecified safety. A dead end put a stop to its path and its hope for survival.

_End. Dark. Damp. Alone._

As the Shadow felt along the wall impeding its progress for any sign of a crack it could slip through, its antennae twitched. It sensed something, and paused to listen. Behind the Shadow, the water was churning and bubbling, as if stirred by the propeller of a boat. Curious, the Heartless turned and moved closer to the water to investigate.

Water. Something. Unknown.

Suddenly, the water took shape, forming a giant hand that reached up from the depths. Before the Heartless could react, the hand snatched it off of the walkway, pulling the struggling, pathetic creature below the surface of the filthy river. In a matter of seconds, the unfortunate Heartless dissolved, ground against the sewer's bottom by the guided pressure of the water.

A dark portal manifested where the Heartless had stood, and Demyx emerged, grinning like he'd won the lottery. "Score! That's a new personal record!" he exclaimed gleefully, summoning his sitar and strumming a celebratory tune.

As Demyx played his impromptu victory song, he reflected on the events of the morning – which, by his standards, had gone reasonably well.

"_Woke up with Zexion, after a night of torrid romance. Waffles for breakfast – my favorite. And I cleared the sewers in half my usual time!"_ Dismissing his sitar, Demyx closed his eyes, basking in his achievement. At least, as well as anyone can bask in a sewer fed by a city of thousands.

With the extra time afforded him by his efficient performance, Demyx decided to grab lunch in the city before returning to the Castle. So it was that he teleported aboveground, appearing in one of Hollow Bastion's many alleys. Nobody was around to see, and this suited Demyx just fine. Putting his hood up, he left the alley and strode into the main square.

The prime directive of Organization XIII, it must be mentioned, was that an operative could not appear to outsiders. It was one of the Organization's most frequently flouted laws, right up there with "Fraternization of any sort is strongly discouraged" and "Dusks may not be used as target practice." What Demyx had learned, however, was that any successful infraction of the rules must be accompanied by an equally reasonable rationalization. In this case, he figured that this world had creatures made of darkness menacing the citizens, and a select few of said citizens wielded weapons as big as or bigger than themselves; thus, the presence of a figure cloaked in black would go unnoticed in such a setting.

For the most part, Demyx was correct, and not only for the reasons above. It was Valentine's Day, after all, and this occasion had not gone unacknowledged by the inhabitants of Hollow Bastion. The scenery was covered with red and pink everywhere Demyx looked, streamers and hearts adorning every exposed surface. Even the dormant lampposts had been fitted with carnation-pink bulbs, promising a rosy glow for the evening to accentuate the romance in the air. As Demyx entered the main square, he found that a massive heart on display above the fountain dominated the city center. Apparently suspended in place by magic, the heart slowly revolved, a massive carven ruby reflecting the couples enjoying lunch in the surrounding cafes. The fountain sprayed red wine instead of water, a symbol of both today's festivities and of the gradually rising prosperity of the city.

Demyx saw all this, and stood frozen in silence, taking in the crimson-infused display. _"There's nothing like this back at home base, that's for sure," _he thought, surveying the decorations from his vantage point under one of the square's entrance arches. It occurred to him that, contrary to what was usually the case, he was violently out of place here. This was a sentiment shared by the people of Hollow Bastion, some of whom turned to stare at the morbidly clothed stranger crossing the square. None of these civilians would pose any threat to the Organization or Demyx, but it was enough for Number IX to chance a quick look over his shoulder as he entered the bakery.

The baker fixed Demyx with wary eyes as a bell rang, signaling the Nobody's entrance. But this suspicion was fleeting – as Demyx approached the counter, it became clear that he was a customer, and nothing more. "Can I help you, sir? Or madam?" asked the baker, trying to discern Demyx's outline below the cloak.

"Um…what do you recommend? As long as it's to go." Demyx was severely out of practice as far as foreign food was concerned. The baker, however, broke into a wide grin, taking Demyx's confusion as an opportunity. "As a matter of fact, our specialty today is red velvet cake, in honor of Valentine's Day. Only five munny a slice." Demyx ended up buying two – _"One for me, one for Zexion. Wonder what he's doing."_

* * *

Upon his return to the Castle That Never Was, however, Demyx received no satisfactory answer. The building was mostly empty, anyway; the majority of the Organization was still occupied with their respective missions. Demyx entered the main hall, carrying two paper plates of red velvet cake and searching for a certain Cloaked Schemer. "Zexion?" he called, looking around the castle for any sign of life. The stark ivory walls and sparse, yet grand furnishings of the ominously named Beginning of the End offered no response.

Demyx sighed, and was just about to return to his quarters when a voice issued forth from seemingly all sides. "Looking for your bookworm?" called a familiar accent of nonchalance. Demyx whirled, struggling to keep his cake balanced and find the source of the words. "Xigbar, where are you?" he asked, frustrated at the second failure of his powers of observation today.

A small _pop_ announced itself from behind Demyx, signaling the forcing of air from its position - teleportation. It was enough to make the Melodious Nocturne jump, dropping both plates of cake in the process. They fell to the floor, seemingly in slow motion from Demyx's horrified point of view, and culinary disaster was only averted when the cake suddenly stopped, inches from destruction. The cake hung in midair for a few harrowing seconds, and then righted itself, landing gently on the floor.

Demyx, who had been frozen in despair and shock, breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face Xigbar, whose powers had caused the disturbance and saved the dessert. "Thanks. Have you seen Zexion? I can't find him anywhere." He decided not to mention the cake, remembering Xemnas's warning.

Xigbar smirked, his one eye regarding Demyx with an appraising gleam. "I figured he'd be back from his mission by now. He's probably filling out his report for the big cheese, so if I were you, I wouldn't disturb him." Xigbar chuckled, and continued: "Me being me, however, all bets are off." Demyx rolled his eyes, and answered, "Well, tell me if you see him."

Xigbar nodded, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "Right. By the same token, tell me if you see Luxord. I owe him a good beating for that Pride Rock crap."

"Sure," Demyx replied. "Don't hide in his closet – I think Axel's got that covered."

"If he hasn't got Roxas covered," Xigbar said, cackling evilly and disappearing. Demyx cracked a smile, and picked up the cake. _"Hmmm…probably shouldn't risk this again. I'll take the shortcut."_ So rather than walking, Demyx dropped the cake off in his room by way of a portal of darkness. His burden thus relieved, Demyx portaled off to the Northern Ramparts to look for Zexion. He appeared outside of Number VI's door, deciding to knock in case Zexion didn't want to be disturbed.

"Zexion? Are you in there?" Demyx called. The response was swift and disappointing: "Demyx, I would love to take the edge off of today's extremely stressful mission, but I need a nap after I finish my report. I'll come get you if I need you, all right?"

Demyx pouted, and said, "Would you change your tune for red velvet cake?"

"_I'll. Come. Get. You. If. I. Need. You."_

Demyx sighed. There went his entertainment. Dejectedly, he mumbled a "See you," and walked off. _"I like Zexion, but he takes everything so seriously. Oh, well – perhaps I'll go for a swim." _True to his grudging decision, Demyx started down the hall to the West Wing, wherein lay the Atrophied Gymnasium. He had reached the border of the Isolated Study, Zexion's part of the castle, when he nearly ran into Axel. "Axel! What are you doing here?"

Axel raised a quizzical eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm back from my tour of duty, and in absence of Roxas to play with and alcohol to consume I thought I'd take a walk. I might ask the same of you."

"Well…" Demyx paused. _"Axel doesn't seem like one to listen to the Superior…but I can't be sure – especially today of all days." _Playing it safe, he answered half-truthfully. "I was going for a swim, and thought I'd walk to the old AG. Good for my figure, you know?"

Axel's eyebrow fell, and he broke into paroxysms of laughter. "AG? What's that supposed to stand for? Wait, don't tell me – it's some kind of weird slang from your previous world."

Demyx was not amused, and more than a little embarrassed. "Atrophied Gymnasium. It's an acronym." Unfortunately for Demyx, he was given to slips of the tongue when being dishonest.

Axel composed himself. "Right. Do me a favor and never acronym anything. You sound like a teenage Xigbar. Oh, by the way, if you're looking for Zexion, he was in the Hall of Empty Melodies last time I saw him. Might want to check up on that." This last sentence was punctuated throughout by winks and rather obscene hand motions, which Demyx had little patience for. With a dismissive attitude uncharacteristic of himself yet appropriate for a Nobody, Demyx rolled his eyes and pushed past Axel to continue his traversal of the Castle's halls.

But all the way down to the Castle's core, Demyx was haunted by one question:

"_What's he doing in two places at once?"_

* * *

Demyx intended to find out, and diverted his course to the Hall of Empty Melodies. As he left the Northern Ramparts and reached the great foyer welcoming the Organization to the upper levels of the castle, he distinctly heard voices issuing forth from his destination.

"…Anyway, I don't want to ruin it. You know nothing, understand?"

"Somewhat. I must say, this seems like a lot of trouble for a simple-"

"I'll cover your missions for the rest of the week. Don't tell the Superior, and don't tell Demyx."

"My, but you are quite the negotiator. It's a deal."

"Someone's coming. Don't let me down."

This exchange was utterly confusing to Demyx, if not a little insulting. Unless he was sorely mistaken, the secretive voice had belonged to Zexion. _"What's he doing keeping secrets from me?" _thought Demyx, passing through the entryway into the Hall. He fully intended to confront Zexion about this, but only found Marluxia on the balcony, looking thoughtful. "Marluxia! Was Zexion here a moment ago?"

The Graceful Assassin noticed Demyx then, turning to him with a small, knowing smile. "As a matter of fact, we were just talking. Why?"

Demyx glared at him. _"He knows something, and he isn't telling."_ Deciding to err on the side of caution and not mention Zexion's supposed presence in his room, he focused on the here and now. "I've been looking for him. Do you know where he might be?" At this, Marluxia raised his pink eyebrows in amusement, and his smile widened. "Unfortunately, no. In fact, he seemed rather eager to leave when he heard you coming. I wonder why that might be?"

At this point, Demyx was more hurt than angry. "I don't think it's any of your business, Number XI. It sounds like this is between me and him." Marluxia merely nodded, still smiling poisonously. "Very well. Let me know how it turns out," he said, in a tone that indicated that he didn't care in the least.

With a final glare in Marluxia's direction, Demyx summoned a portal and returned to the Northern Ramparts. He was going to get to the bottom of this, for better or for worse.

* * *

Excuse the time it took to update what should be a far shorter story than I usually write. I was at my great-uncle's ranch in western Texas with my entire extended family, and that part of the country knows not the gentle caress of wi-fi. As the cliffhanger ending of this chapter should make abundantly clear, this is going to go for three chapters instead of my promised two. One thing I've learned in my first year of writing is that a story never turns out exactly as planned. It belongs to the characters, after all, and if you write for them instead of about them (if that makes sense), you're basically running a puppet show, which doesn't translate well to the written word.

Also excuse the lack of fluff in this chapter, because as I approached the 6-page mark I realized I wasn't going to resolve Zexion's gambit in one chapter. You'll have all the romance you desire in the final chapter, and the Romance classification will of course be justified.

I could go on and on about how I like a smaller, more character-driven story and let slip so many plans for the future regarding Organization XIII, but I'll throw that bone out there in the next author's note. So assume early January at the latest.

As always, the Review button is right below these words, as is the drop-down favorite story/alerts button that fills my inbox and warms my heart. Thanks for reading, and chapter 3 will be up soon!

Love and thanks to all the readers

Zellarius Burvenia


	3. Chapter 3

Throughout his tenure with the Organization, Demyx had learned many times over that assumptions were dangerous things. Finding a world eerily empty was no indication of the absence of Heartless; more likely, they would have killed everyone in the vicinity and would have been waiting for someone like Demyx to stumble obliviously into their midst. Likewise, if someone learned of the true nature of the Organization, they were to be eliminated immediately rather than left to conveniently forget what they knew. Working for Organization XIII instilled in all its operatives a healthy sense of paranoia.

Demyx's own paranoia was refined a little further when he arrived in the Northern Ramparts. He stepped out of a portal in the wall opposite Zexion's door (plain white and marked "VI" with "Isolated Study" below), determined to enter this time whether his "lover" liked it or not. _"Let's see him try to keep _anything _from me when I set my mind to..._huh?" Demyx paused nanoseconds from knocking on the door, his fist hanging and forgotten as he listened to Zexion's voice coming from within.

"No, no, no! Put that down, we're not using it this time...Come here, let me show you what I'm talking about...Yeah, put it right there. There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Beautiful, I feel better already."

Demyx's suspicion and determination collided like a meteor with a young planet Earth, and the anger rising from these emotions was fast approaching an intensity that would indeed kill most dinosaurs. _"Who's he talking to? Who's he with? Of all the times to cheat on me, he had to pick-"_

"Now as for you," Zexion continued, "I've got something in mind for you that the others just aren't equipped for..."

_"The _others? _What others?"_

That was the last straw. Nothing mattered to Demyx anymore except confronting Zexion. Quivering with fury, the Melodious Nocturne backed up and broke into a run, leaping and slamming into the door. He regretted it as soon as he struck the metal; all his efforts won him were a bruised shoulder and a temporarily deadened arm, which Demyx knew would soon hurt like hell. In his mind, though, the pain was secondary to the grunting and whispering coming from Zexion's room - which had suddenly stopped. A lone voice, Zexion's, acknowledged Demyx: "Demyx, if that's you, I'm going to have to ask you to come back later. There's things I have to do that you really shouldn't see..." Picking himself up off the ground, Demyx eyed the door venomously as the suggestive noises resumed. _"Looks like we're doing this the _hard_ way," _he thought, opening a portal. Demyx then paused uncomfortably.

_"The _difficult _way."_ Much better.

Technically there was little point in having locks on the doors in the Castle That Never Was; if everyone could teleport anyway, the idea of a lock was reduced to a mere illusion of privacy. Perhaps an illusion is all that it was, perhaps it was just a residual instinct from when the Organization had hearts, perhaps a combination of both. For now Demyx was glad to be able to bypass such rudimentary defenses. He stepped through the swirling oval of purple and black, ready to give Zexion and whoever he was with a royal smackdown, when-

_KAZZZZZZZAP_

Lightning seemed to attack every inch of Demyx's body the moment he entered the portal. The three seconds it lasted seemed to drag on for thirty before he was unceremoniously blasted back out of the portal to impact against the opposite wall, this time against his other shoulder. He now had two nasty bruises on his upper body and was back to square one.

"Localized portal disruption field, Number IX," Zexion called. "Traded the complete works of Shakespeare to Vexen for a generator. I'm sorry, but I can't let you in here."

Demyx scoffed, feeling betrayed. "I bet that's not the only thing you and he traded! Admit it, he's in there right now!"

Silence. Then: "...Demyx, what the hell are you trying to tell me?" There were muffled voices asking what was going on outside, which Zexion hushed quickly.

There was no immediate answer. Demyx braced himself against the wall, testing his numb legs and sliding to a standing position. He had lost all the feeling in his body thanks to that ridiculous invention of Vexen's, but at the same time he felt desensitized in a different way. Was he jealous of Zexion and whoever else he was with? Was he angry at his infidelity? Demyx's instincts told him that he should be, yet the memory of even these negative emotions wasn't firing in his mind. He balled his hands into fists, bristling at Zexion's apparent insensitivity, but lacked the motivation to sustain it. He finally settled for simply glaring at the door, wearing a look of indignant hurt. "Fine," he spat, turning to leave and avoiding looking at the door any longer. "What do I care who you go to bed with? We're Nobodies, it shouldn't matter to us. It's just like you said this morning - in the end we're just each other's 'temporary relief!'" It stung Demyx to say this, but he closed his eyes and clenched his gloved fists to shake it off, reminding himself that whatever he felt was a reflex and nothing more. "And to think that this morning I thought you were just being cute!" That was all he could take. Demyx turned, slammed one fist into the wall, instantly and painfully regretting it; then he was off, stalking down the hall as fast as he could without running.

More silence. "Demyx?" Zexion called. "Number IX?" No response. "Damn it all."

In his room, Zexion sighed, wondering how on earth Demyx had survived as long as he had without learning to read situations more carefully. There was more than a little guilt mixed in with his exasperation. _"Now what?" _he asked himself, uncomfortable. _"Why didn't I tell him it was a surprise? Hell, why didn't I just pretend I wasn't there? I bet Marluxia screwed me over...and Demyx could be doing any number of things right now. Ugh, what have I done?" _Zexion sank down in a nearby armchair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration; after a moment or two to himself he looked up at his three Absent Silhouettes sharing the room with him. All three looked exactly like him, save for minor imperfections: Zexion Secondary had one green eye and one aqua, Zexion Tertiary was a quarter of an inch shorter, and Zexion Quaternary's hair was a shade darker. "Zexion Secondary, go find Demyx. Bring him here as quickly as possible."

Zexion Secondary nodded, then paused. "Zexion Primary, what about the plan?"

"Forget the plan," Zexion answered dismissively. "This is the one day he - we - can almost feel what it was like to be whole. And false emotions or not, I don't want to ruin it for him."

* * *

Demyx walked briskly through the Northern Ramparts, not caring who saw him in his fury. His room was in the West Wing, and he intended to walk all the way there - if he hadn't burned off most of the stress by the time he arrived, he was liable to flood most of that section of the castle without meaning to. Vexen passed him in the hall, carrying a stack of papers, and stopped to talk; it took remarkable self-control on Demyx's part not to summon a tidal wave and sweep him through a nearby window. Demyx greeted him with a cold stare, which Vexen either didn't care about or didn't notice - he seemed somewhat distracted.

"Ah, Number IX, I was looking for you. I've recently been...obligated...to tell you to avoid entering Zexion's room by portal. Apparently there's something in there he doesn't want you to see?" Vexen phrased this last sentence as a question, and accompanied it with a quirk of an eyebrow in expectation of an answer.

"You don't say," Demyx responded acidly through tightly clenched teeth. "He seems to be doing a lot of 'obligating' lately!" He watched Vexen go from mildly interested to affronted - Number IV wasn't used to cross words from Number IX, of all people. Vexen opened his mouth as if to reprimand him, then decided against it and went on his way, casting a suspicious glance back at Demyx and muttering about shooting the messenger. Without another word, Demyx continued on down the hallway to the center of the Castle. The Vacant Core held the central gathering places: the Hollow Cafeteria, the sprawling lounge known as the Gray Area, and the Hall of Empty Melodies, along with smaller meeting rooms, closets, storage areas, kitchens, and even rooms whose function and contents had been long forgotten. Demyx wasn't interested in any of these - he was just passing through. On his way he would often catch glimpses of Kingdom Hearts, this world's ominous substitute for a sun and moon, monopolizing the skyline and providing the only natural light - and could something built by the Organization truly be called natural?

The sight at first pained Demyx. _"I wish I didn't have to look at it all the time - it's just a reminder of what I've lost. My heart, my family and friends back in Hawaii, real emotions...Especially today of all days." _His self-pity eventually gave way to black thoughts about Zexion (_"I bet he was playing me the entire time. Why would he care how I feel? That shouldn't even be possible for us."_) and then to painful memories of their time together. Zexion had been particularly good at remembering the little things - Demyx had mentioned offhand what a fan he was of classical music, and next weekend Zexion had surprised him with a rack of Bach CDs collected from several worlds over the course of his missions. Demyx had returned the favor with all the books he could carry from an ancient library on a world long devoid of human life yet spared destruction for reasons unknown. Writing songs for him when he was sick, Zexion reading to him late into the night - the list went on. _"We'd always be one-upping each other," _Demyx thought with a sad smile as he entered his quarters. _"That's what made things exciting - the uncertainty. Pleasant surprises."_

As one entered the Symphonic Refuge, one would see an Olympic-sized swimming pool dominating the room, surrounded by a sapphire-colored tile floor assembled by several Dancers from ceramic shards collected from worlds the universe over. Through a door on the left was the bathroom; across from it was his bedroom. Down a set of stairs across from the entrance was a glass-walled conservatory full of one of every kind of instrument in various states of repair. Demyx's hobby, clumsy as he might be elsewhere, was taking damaged things and making them beautiful again. As he stripped to his boxers and slipped into the pool for a swim, it occurred to him that the Organization claimed to be doing the same thing: people who weren't whole had a chance at becoming so once more. But after years with no sign of his other half, no visible chance at becoming Myde again, Demyx wondered if the Organization, and the various diversions that he had found in his time with it, were simply treating the symptom and not the cause. The Symphonic Refuge held many things he remembered enjoying, yet nothing that could truly surprise him. Three things could consistently do that: a newly repaired sitar (harp, cello, piano, etc.), his own idle composing...

And Zexion.

Twenty laps of the pool couldn't chase the Cloaked Schemer from Demyx's mind. And as he reached the edge of the pool, he found that his mind wasn't the only place he could see Zexion. He was, in fact, standing above him at the pool's edge, watching him swim.

Demyx yelped, jerking back from the wall in surprise - and hanging back in anger. "You! What are you doing in my room?"

Zexion sighed. "I thought you might say that. Listen, we need you to come to the Isolated Study. The disruption field's off and there's something that-"

"What do you mean _we?" _Demyx shot back, the water churning threateningly into miniature waves. "Are you bored with that threesome or whatever I heard? Need someone else to heat things up, _Number VI_? Sorry, I'm content on my own!" he asserted loftily, turning aside, shutting his eyes and crossing his arms to indicate he didn't want to hear more.

Zexion facepalmed, muttering under his breath; Demyx, meanwhile, intended to stay right where he was until Zexion left. He only opened his eyes when he heard another splash, followed by several more in a clumsy rhythm. Even then, he didn't move until he felt something brush his shoulder. Turning toward whatever it was, he found that Zexion had stripped to his boxers as well and had swam out to meet him. He tensed, but did not recoil. "Okay, you can be sopping wet _and _disappointed. Doesn't make a difference to-"

"_Demyx._" Zexion interrupted him, paddling in front of him and grabbing him by the shoulders. "Look at my face." Demyx resisted, closing his eyes again, but the rough water calmed down as finally he opened them to see what Zexion was talking about. It took him a second to notice. "Zexion...you don't have green eyes, do you? One of them..." He trailed off, staring for a moment; his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then shot up as he realized what was happening. "You're one of his _clones?" _Zexion Secondary smiled, relieved that they were getting somewhere; then his world went white for a moment as his head erupted in pain. Demyx had punched him in the ear.

"What the _hell _is his problem? He cheats on me, then can't even bother to talk to me himself?" Demyx was livid, punctuating his words with slaps against the water that threw up geysers. "I ought to rip you apart bit by fake bit!"

Zexion Secondary rubbed the side of his head, wincing, and decided that talking wasn't going to get them anywhere. It was time to fight dirty. "He's right behind you, making out with Axel!" the replica yelled, pointing. Sure enough, Demyx whirled, ready to drown his boyfriend where he stood.

"Wait a minute," Demyx said, turning around. "There's no one-_MOTHER OF DARKNESS!"_

Zexion Secondary launched himself from the side of the pool, knocking Demyx through a portal.

* * *

Luckily, the portal closed behind them both before too much water could spill into the Isolated Study. Demyx found himself facedown on a shag carpet, soaked with his pool water, and thrashed around to get at the Absent Silhouette that had brought him there. "Let me go! What's that traitorous bookworm planning with me?" Still half-disoriented, he only succeeded in shaking water onto his surroundings as Zexion Secondary struggled to hold him. Three sets of hands grabbed him and jerked him upright, which confused him even more. He only stopped when he was forced to stand and got a good look at where he was - and who was with him.

Three of Zexion's Absent Silhouettes held him in place to see the Isolated Study, a high-ceilinged library with wall-to-wall, two-story bookshelves. Directly in front of him, taped to one of the bookshelf walls, was a huge banner that said "Happy Valentine's Day, Demyx!" written in elaborate red script and decorated with hand-drawn pictures of him and Zexion in..._compromising _positions, which Demyx found infuriatingly intriguing. Red roses filled equally red vases on every wooden surface, tables and chairs both. Rose petals were strewn across the spaces between furniture - and Demyx noticed with some annoyance that several were now stuck to his bare skin. And there, waiting patiently in an overstuffed black leather armchair, was the real Zexion himself, seeming paler than usual, with one eyebrow quirked and watching Demyx with amusement. Demyx gulped. This was _not _what he had expected to see.

"Um...Zexy?" he ventured, beginning to be quite confused. "What's this?"

"Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Demyx," Zexion replied dryly. "Oh, you're welcome for all this, I thought you'd like it. Why yes, it was pretty taxing doing my mission at one quarter my normal strength while my Absent Silhouettes rushed to decorate for you. Thank you for sympathizing."

Demyx held Zexion's piercing gaze uncomfortably. "So when I came by and you were busy..."

"No, I wasn't cheating on you."

Demyx hung his head guiltily. "How would you feel if I told you how stupid I feel right now?"

Zexion smiled then, glad the storm had passed. "Much better, thank you. Go ahead and release him, we understand each other now," he commanded. The Absent Silhouettes let Demyx go and stepped back. Their forms blurred as Zexion recalled them to him, merging with them one by one and looking healthier with each reunion. Zexion cracked his knuckles, rolled his head from side to side, and stretched, as if adapting to his body. "Oh, that feels good," he muttered. "As for you..." he said mock-severely, approaching Demyx.

The Melodious Nocturne hadn't felt this bad since he'd lost his heart. He hadn't been betrayed - on the contrary, he'd betrayed the person he felt made it worth it to not exist. He didn't look up as he spoke. "How could I have doubted you?" was all he could manage as he stared at the gray carpet. Zexion's hand entered his view, cupping his chin and raising his head to see his boyfriend.

"I don't blame you. Let's get that out of the way," Zexion began, meeting Demyx's green eyes with his own aqua pair. "We're Nobodies. We look at things based on what we see, what we hear - not what we feel." He laughed softly, moving his hand to Demyx's shoulder. "Trust is secondary to us. Without emotional attachments keeping any of us in line, we think everyone's out for himself."

Demyx shivered, wanting to jump Zexion and not separate from him until the morning, but still overcome with contrition. Did he really deserve this? "Sometimes that's true," he sighed miserably.

Zexion nodded. "Yes, sometimes we are selfish. But even though we can't feel, we can remember what it felt like. I'm not just in this for the sex, you know. Remember when you came to the infirmary and played your sitar for me when I was laid up with a broken arm?" he encouraged. Demyx nodded, a faint smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He'd never played for that long, even on weekends when they were free. When he had run out of things he'd composed, he'd improvised for hours on end. "Physical closeness is nice," Zexion continued, "but it's things like that that let me know you're in it for more than that too. It lets me know you're thinking about me." Zexion released Demyx's shoulder, taking Number IX's hand in his. "By all indications we're physically incapable of what people call 'love.' But who's to say we can't come close? What if we've found something just like it, maybe better?" Finally he closed the distance between them, standing toe to toe with Demyx and taking his other hand.

"Besides," Zexion whispered. "Love or not, _we know what we like."_

Demyx was through feeling sorry. Zexion had closed his eyes, moving in for a gentle meeting of lips, and Demyx met him head on with a full-power kiss, driving the Cloaked Schemer back a couple of inches. Zexion didn't pull away; he pressed himself to Demyx's nearly-naked body, matching him kiss for kiss and savoring the taste of the taller Nobody as he crushed his lips against Demyx's. He moved his hands from Demyx's hands to his shoulder blades, unconsciously caressing Demyx's exposed upper back in angular patterns as he slipped his tongue between his lover's lips. Demyx met this intrusion with his own tongue, matching its movements with the rhythm of their lips as he embraced his superior. Suddenly he grabbed Zexion under his shoulders, lifting him up to make up for their height difference. Zexion cooperated, hooking his legs around Demyx's hips as Demyx held him by his lower back. They stayed there for a while; when they broke apart Zexion smiled down at Demyx, planting a small kiss on his nose. "So. Any ideas for how we spend the rest of the day?" he teased, already knowing the answer. They both laughed, and Demyx kissed him again; then he pulled away, looking past Zexion at the Valentine's Day banner. A few of the drawings had caught his attention, especially the one nestled in the hole in the second P. _"Can he really bend that way?" _he asked himself. _"One way to find out, I guess..." _He looked back at Zexion, who was gazing at him expectantly.

"I've got a few ideas," Demyx hinted with a grin. "I picked up some cake in Hollow Bastion. Sure you wouldn't like some of that first?"

Zexion looked down at the end of the room, where a trail of rose petals led to his bedroom door. He chose to forgo a verbal answer, letting his lips do the talking for another minute. His next words were the last he would speak coherently for the day:

"Forget the cake and finish undressing."

* * *

So what do you think? This is my first romance, as I mentioned, and I want it to be believable. Certainly my absence from the site should have given me time to refine my craft. I'm sorry for not updating for so long - senior year caught me by surprise, let's say. I want to make this a more regular thing, but until school ends it's going to be sporadic. Not so far apart as before, just sporadic. So before continuing with Lux Aeterna (which I am doing), I thought I'd finish this up. This is Axel-Fangirl's finally-completed, _very _late Christmas present. I apologize for the delay, and hope you've had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Zemyx is one of my favorite pairings, and I'm glad to have finally contributed something to the community.

Reviewing increases life expectancy. Scientists said so.


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